About a Burning Fire
by Is0lde
Summary: Night Watch. Anton is Light. Kostya is Dark. Whatever's between them, it's forbidden. But who listens to good judgement when your life is falling apart?
1. Chapter 1: Waste

**Title:** About a Burning Fire  
**Rating:** R  
**Fandom:** Night Watch (bookverse)  
**Pairing:** Anton/Kostya  
**Disclaimer:** Sorry to say I own neither Kostya nor Anton. But I'm over it.  
**Author's note:** I haven't written anything in quite a while now. Not slash, anyway. Writing this was therefore a real challenge, and I can't say I enjoyed every second of it. But now that it's over and done with, I'm glad I got through all those rough spots.  
This piece is a birthday present for my beloved cousin. Here's hoping she'll like it.

* * *

**Waste**

I got out of bed early. Nowadays I find it harder to keep track of these things, but a quick look at the clock radio told me it was 3 PM. My head heavy and buzzing from the previous night's vodka marathon, I pulled my clothes on, not even trying to care about _what _I put on – just grabbing the clothes at hand, or rather, lying on the floor beneath the bed. Staggering into the kitchen, I glanced briefly into the mirror in the hallway.

The mirror, as always, greeted me with brutal honesty: a gloomy, thirty-something boozer wearing tattered old jeans and an equally old shirt that, if memory serves, used to be white sometime long ago. Bags under the eyes the size of minor asteroids and hair like a magpie's nest. Wasn't I just a sight for sore eyes…

I didn't stop to admire my doubtful appearance for long, but moved on into the kitchen. I almost tripped over a pile of old newspapers clattering the floor, and found my balance again with extreme difficulty. The thought of fixing my hangover by Other means occurred to me, but that would've been a waste of Power. Instead, I decided to go looking for hair of the dog that bit me.

I must've really had a party the night before, because the liquor cabinet was completely dried out. Not a single drop of brandy, not a smidgeon of scotch (though I strongly suspected Semyon to have pulled his weight in emptying my reserves last weekend), and, of course, no vodka left. No wonder I felt like the source of all depravity.

A look in the fridge confirmed my suspicions – that after thirty odd years, I still hadn't learned how to shop for food properly. The only things left in there had either evolved into a new, greenish life form or, as were the case with the sad heap of potatoes stashed on the bottommost shelf, had taken to growing a set of exciting new extremities.

For a split second, I pondered what Zavulon must've thought when he had entered my apartment. _Here's someone who doesn't much bother to take care of himself. Who lives in absolute filth._ And for what? A Dark Other would never lower himself to such living conditions. Yet I had a feeling Zavulon would never give up on me someday slipping up, and sliding over that invisible boundary between Light and Dark. His resilience was probably one of the many reasons why he'd managed to top the Moscow Day Watch for as long as he had. He was a cunning, brutal, incontrovertible genius – in short, he had all the qualities of a good leader. Just as Geser did.

I gave a deep sigh, my eyes sliding of the pitiful contents of my fridge. How was I supposed to help other people, when I couldn't even take care of myself?

My shift didn't start until 10. Normally when I woke up too early, I would head into town, have a look around or visit Sveta, but today for some reason or other, I didn't feel the least bit inclined to. I knew that if I didn't show, she'd probably be worried, and with everything that was going on, nobody could blame her. Call me insensitive, but seeing Svetlana in my current condition wasn't something I yearned for. She'd be all over me in seconds, taking care of me, asking how I was, the whole nine yards.

She'd rather die than admit it, but Svetlana is the very image of motherhood. And from time to time, I just get nauseous from her trying to make me feel better, wanting to listen to all my troubles and make everything alright. I suppose I should've felt grateful there was someone who cared, but I didn't need anyone to straighten me out – that was my job, right? Just to be myself, allow myself to feel what I was feeling…

That I was drowning in self-doubt, choking on the concepts of right and wrong.


	2. Chapter 2: Visit

**Visit**

I don't know what drove me into the stairwell. I get like that sometimes: there's this temporary loss of conscious thought, and then I find myself someplace entirely different. Might be a souvenir from all the years I've spent the better part of in a constant alcohol-induced daze. I've always known it would come back to haunt me somehow… I suppose it could've been worse.

Scratching the back of my head, with my finger on the doorbell belonging to the apartment next to mine, I heard the faint ringing sound from behind the locked door, and wondered if it was possible to sleepwalk awake. My head was still a chaos of pounding blood: it felt like some unknown creature was rustling about in there, obstructing everything even resembling a coherent thought.

It took about a minute, during which I felt more than once the itching notion that I should probably go back into my own apartment and forget I was ever outside, before the lock clicked and a sleepy, unkempt figure wearing nothing but underwear and a shabby t-shirt appeared in the doorway. Kostya peered at me, pushing hair out of his eyes, looking both surprised and slightly annoyed at the same time.

"Anton?"

I met his gaze, subconsciously shoving my hands down the pockets of my jeans, and nodded at him. "Hi."

"What are you doing, calling at this hour?" Kostya said after a brief moment of silence. His voice was raspy, hoarse, much like my own. Of course we'd both been up late the night before – but for completely opposing reasons, one would imagine.

"Did I wake you up?"

"What do you think?" If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought he was angry with me for disturbing his beauty sleep, but he had a habit of paying me unannounced visits at untimely occasions himself. It took a moment, but then he sighed, swung the door ajar and turned around, making his way across the hallway. "Well, get in here, will you. You're letting in the light."


	3. Chapter 3: Blood

**Blood **

Kostya's apartment is always well kept, though I suspect his father is the only reason that it's stayed that war, the foremost evidence supporting that theory being that Kostya's own room is about as neat as a post-carnage battlefield. Coming into the apartment, I felt right at home, and I knew why: the curtains throughout the place had been pulled closed, creating a slightly dank, murky ambience. Despite what popular culture would have you believe, vampires don't spontaneously combust from sunlight, but they don't exactly like it, either. And me, the supposed counterpart, conducting most of my work in the nighttime, I've got used to living like that too. As much a pariah as any vampire.

Besides, my newfound enthusiasm for soothing darkness had proven to work well with my having no discipline at all when it came to cleaning. Also, it helped with the reoccurring headaches.

"Do you want something?" Kostya called from the kitchen. I closed the door behind me, locking it, and made my way to him. He was standing by the fridge, inspecting the shelves.

"What do you have?" I asked hesitantly. I still wasn't feeling too well, and my instincts and experience told me any sort of solid food would've been a really bad idea.

Kostya turned his head and gave me a fleeting glance. He then proceeded to pull out a small, capped bottle with a dark substance whirling around inside it.

"Got blood," he muttered.

I looked away, out of the window, and I could feel him eyeing me, trying to catch my reaction. "Thanks, but no thanks," I replied.

Him offering me blood was such a blatant provocation, and I couldn't help but give a slight smile at his childish behaviour. He was a grown-up, but he was still so much of a teenager. Lately, he'd made it into a game, testing me to see what made me tick. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't some part of me that was amused by this, but it kind of annoyed me at the same time. For some reason it really got to me: him feeling the need to establish our differences like that.

"Suit yourself," he said, pouring some for himself into a black Nescafe cup and chucking it in the microwave. I felt a bit queasy, seeing Kostya warm the blood up… for that special, fresh-out-of-the-jugular feel. I remembered suddenly he'd signed up at the university, wanting to find a cure for his "disease". I suppose he's stopped pursuing his hopeless dream by now.

Sitting down opposite me at the table, looking at me, he took a hearty swig from his freshly warmed cup of blood, licking his lips dry from the red substance. I found myself following the movement of his tongue across his mouth: slow, careful to catch every last drop of plasma. I guess sometimes when you're tired and generally burnt out, your brain's not fully operational, and it causes you to fixate on the most insignificant details…

When I finally snapped out of it, I realised Kostya was watching me, closely. I couldn't interpret the look on his face – inquiring, and at the same time somehow standoffish – it was useless trying to figure him out.

"You look like shit, Anton," he finally stated.

I gave a short laugh. "Thank you for being honest."

"Late night?"

"You could say that."

"Did you…" He broke off his own sentence, but didn't look away for a second. "Were you hunting? I mean… were you on duty?"

I frowned. "No. I just couldn't sleep, that's all."

Ever since that run-in with the hairdresser, Andrei, I had seen far less of Kostya than I had done before. I'd been busy keeping my life from coming apart at the seams, of course… but that wasn't the real reason. I knew Kostya had been friends with the vampire, and I had killed him. Andrei had been in violation of the Treaty – Kostya knew that – but try explaining to an eighteen-year-old why it was necessary to kill off his friend like a rabid dog. The old "it's just my job" routine just didn't apply here.

It was only natural for things to become a bit strained between us, but at least it had been getting steadily better over the last few weeks. Still, here we were… for some reason, it felt hard to talk. I decided to put it down to us both being tired, not yet fully awake.

"My father's at work," Kostya said, after having sat quietly for a few minutes. He had grabbed a teaspoon from the table and was now swirling it around in the blood, staring at the rips and curls on the surface, stirring maniacally. I got the feeling he was nervous about something – I didn't even need to read his aura for that. His body language was doing a fine job advertising it as it was. "I think he wanted me to help out today, but I couldn't get out of bed. I've been so tired lately. Like I'm maybe getting sick or something."

"That's unlikely," I replied automatically. Vampires very rarely get sick, and when they do, it's usually some magical malady. I suppose it's hard for a normal, garden-variety virus to take hold of a body that is by all appearances dead.

"I know." He looked up at me, again with that quizzical, weird look on his face. "It's just… well, you don't look well, either… I figured maybe we had caught the same thing."

I looked back at him, sceptically. "I don't think so, Kostya. I'm just tired. I've been having a bad week… well, to be honest, I've been having a bad _year_. I'm not sick, just… losing sleep."

And the best thing about telling Kostya how I was feeling was that he didn't immediately start reassuring me, acting the mother, patting me on the back saying "there, there". He just sat there, watching me, taking in every word of what I was saying. Not judging. Just listening.

"You have a lot on your table right now, eh? Night Watch? Important operations, things like that?" He looked curious.

I sighed. "Kostya, you know I can't tell you that."

"I know. Doesn't mean I can't _ask_, though." He didn't look offended, but the way he said it told me he felt a bit hurt. And there it was. I couldn't tell him everything that was on my mind. I couldn't confide in him, couldn't trust him as I would trust my other friends, providing I had any.

Bottom line? I couldn't trust him like I could trust Svetlana. Yet he was the only one I could stand talking to at the moment.

Like I'd told myself a billion times: _he is Dark. I am Light._ _I'm not even supposed to fraternise with him, with a vampire, if not strictly for the purpose of attaining information about Day Watch operations. _I remembered all too well Olga's reaction to our friendship: a mix of disgust and bewilderment. All these rules of conduct…

"You know," Kostya suddenly said, getting up from his seat and walking over to the fridge for a refill of pig's blood, "I got a visit the other day. Said his name was Edgar. Do you know him?"

"No." It was the truth.

"I thought you knew all the major players in Moscow." The tone of his voice was hard to read. He'd closed up again – I don't know why, but I suddenly felt very uneasy.

"Where are you going with this?" I asked, sounding more wound up than I'd intended. What was he playing at?

"He said he was from the Day Watch. They need reinforcement, and apparently my number's up."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Kostya, working for the Day Watch? This year really was turning out to be all about bad news. Another nail in the coffin of whatever remained of what used to be our friendship, and furthermore – I hated myself for having to even consider this – it meant the Dark Ones were planning something, something big. They had all the staff they needed, and yet they'd started recruiting eighteen-year-olds.

He fixed me with a stern gaze, like he was demanding an answer to some untold question. I could only hope I didn't look as insecure and shaken up as I felt. I decided to turn the tables on him.

"And… how do you feel about that?"

He shrugged, obviously trying to give off an air of indifference. Literally pushing his chin out as if to say: _Say what you want. See if I care_. "How am I supposed to feel about it? It is what it is."

I rolled my eyes. This teenage business… "Right, I'll rephrase. Is that what you want to do with your life? Work for the Day Watch?"

He laughed, and the laughter sounded empty, metallic. The sound of a complete lack of hope, of faith in what fate would bring. There are few things more frightening than hearing that in someone that young. And the worst thing about it was that I recognised it from myself. "Well, Anton," he said in a patronising tone, "I am a vampire. I was born into Darkness. Might as well…"

"You still have a choice!" I exclaimed. I had a hard time hiding the frustration I was feeling. And somehow I knew that even if I'd made an attempt to, Kostya would've seen right through me anyway. He knows me too well… sometimes I think perhaps better than anyone else.

"Right," Kostya said sarcastically, "let's discuss my options, Light One."

I didn't reply. I didn't want to discuss Kostya's options: I already knew they were few and far between. What chance did a kid like him have, anyway? Born into vampirism. Brought up to shun the light. He hadn't got to choose sides as I had. Whatever he did with his life, he'd still be a creature of darkness.

Kostya was still looking at me. A faint, bitter smile caressed his lips, and for a fraction of a second, I thought I could see a hint of a red shimmer in his eyes. "I didn't think so."

"Look, Kostya…" I sighed again, feeling completely drained of all supposed zest. "I don't know what to say. If you want to join the Day Watch, do it. If you don't, then don't. I don't see why you even told me this in the first place, if not to piss me off. But it's your choice."

Something happened the second I closed my mouth. During the last fifteen or so minutes, I'd watched Kostya grow more and more distant, provoking me, at times almost taunting me. He'd tried to pull off a hard, indifferent attitude toward me and toward his own life—or is that un-life? But after I'd finished talking, I watched that façade crumble. Tough, sarcastic Kostya… he looked lost, suddenly, as though he didn't know what he was doing anymore, or why.

Was he looking for my approval? Was that it? A confused teenager looking for a role model… or some kind of alternative father figure? For some reason, that idea made me sick to my stomach all over again.

Seconds passed. They felt more like hours. When Kostya finally spoke, it was in a quiet, controlled voice. It didn't sound like him at all.

"I'm not evil," he said. Was I hearing things, or did his voice tremble when he spoke?

"I know that, Kostya."

"No, I…" He bit his lip. "You hunt our kind. Kill us."

"We don't _hunt _vampires. We only track down those in violation of the Treaty. But they've crossed a line. They've killed…"

"You killed Andrei."

"We've been over this." I spoke slowly and carefully. The last thing I wanted was for him to get mad again and run out on me like he had done before. "He attacked me. I know he was your friend, but… he tried to feed off an innocent boy."

"But if he'd had a license…"

"_If _he'd had a license, I wouldn't have been there in the first place."

There. I'd said it. I felt like the world's biggest hypocrite. I knew which side I'd chosen and why, but there were things about the way we in the Night Watch worked that still kept me sleepless for days at a time. I'd never tell Svetlana this; she wouldn't understand, and it would only mess her up. She's a Great Enchantress in the making – troubling her with my ethical crisis would not only be a waste of time, it would be downright stupid.

All these thoughts flew through my head in an instant, and when I met Kostya's gaze again, I knew he'd understood. Seen everything, my failing self-control and doubts. I'd quite literally bared my neck. And of course he'd understood. Who would understand my doubts and uncertainties about good and evil better than Kostya?

"I have to go," I mumbled, getting to my feet and moving toward the door like I was running from a fire.


	4. Chapter 4: Dissolving

**Dissolving **

"Would you kill me?"

I stopped dead at the door. My hand on the handle, the metal cool and solid beneath my fingers. I took a deep breath, but I didn't turn around. I felt somewhat embarrassed. I've known Kostya since he was—well, let's just say for a long time, and over the years, we've talked about almost everything – not including my work for the Watch, obviously. But there was something uncanny about someone finding out your every thought just by looking into your eyes like that. It had nothing to do with Kostya's Other powers, either. His talent, if you could call it that, came from the bond that existed between us. And that made it even more creepy.

Kostya had followed me from the kitchen. He was probably standing in the doorway, about three metres away from me, but it was like I could hear the rhythmic beat of his pulse right next to me. Of course, that was only a trick my mind played on me. My mind, and the alcohol still in my system.

"Would you kill me, Anton?" he repeated. I could feel his merciless gaze burning holes in my back, penetrating my every cell, almost to the point of nailing me against the door. "What if I join the Day Watch, and one day it comes down to either you or me. Dark or Light. You know this fragile equilibrium won't last forever. One day, it'll all blow to hell. There won't be two winning teams, Anton. One side will lose. What will happen to them?"

My inner eye saw the blue moss of the Twilight feasting on the bodies of a lost battlefield. The dead disappearing into the unknown depths of the Twilight forever. "I don't know," I lied.

"Would you do it?" There was a note of desperation in Kostya's voice now. "Stick a knife in my gut, twist it around? I'm a vampire, Anton. You're supposed to hate me. Do you hate me, Anton?"

_And since when do I do what I'm supposed to?_ I thought to myself. I'm supposed to be with my girlfriend right now, and instead I'm alone with my vampire neighbour. I'm supposed to be all righteous and clear-headed, but instead I drink myself into a stupor every chance I get. Who am I? What does that make me?

A no-good loser who can't even tell right from wrong anymore. I've known it for a long time: that I gave up on myself a long time ago. Some part of me seems to think I'm just not worth it.

"No," I said, putting my hands up against the door, leaning my head against it. "Kostya, I don't hate you."

"Light Ones always do."

"Well," I said, sounding more bitter than I ever had before, "if you hadn't noticed, lately I'm not exactly the poster-boy for the Light. Probably never have been."

"When you went after Andrei," Kostya continued mercilessly, "I know you almost turned. Became one of us. I was at home, lying in my room, alone… for the first time in my life, I was praying. For your corruption."

I felt dazed. Was I just imagining things again, or had Kostya moved closer? My back turned, my eyes closed, I couldn't know for sure… and I wasn't even sure which option I preferred.

"Do you understand?" Kostya continued, his voice no more than a whisper now. "My father told me there was no use hoping. But I did. I think I still do."

I felt like I could only understand every other word that came out of Kostya's mouth. And my mind kept playing tricks on me: I thought I could feel the warmth of his breath down the back of my neck. But he'd have to be just an inch away for that – and I hadn't even heard him move…

"But you turned your back on Darkness." I thought I could hear sadness in his voice. "You turned your back on me."

Suddenly everything became clear. It had been right there in front of me since I stepped inside the door—maybe even before that. Oh, fuck. What had I walked into? Maybe I should've seen this coming… all the times he'd come over… I tried to grasp it, but my mind wouldn't let me. Like it had spurted a protective shield, keeping me out.

Everything was spinning. My legs threatened to give away beneath me, like they couldn't support my weight for one more second. I wasn't sure what did it – the lack of sleep, the alcohol, or the dank atmosphere making it hard to breathe – but I completely lost myself. I couldn't think of anything to say. All sorts of questions mingled in my head. My instincts were telling me to make a run for it, but I couldn't move.

"I feel like I'm suffocating," I said. I don't know where the words came from, but instantly felt that it was the truth. The way I'd been feeling for so long. I had finally put it into words.

Arms slid around my waist, locked me in place. I didn't know how to react to it. I just felt this silly happiness, that I wasn't going crazy: Kostya was standing right behind me, holding me. I wasn't just imagining things.

This was where I was supposed to break free from his grip, turn around and excuse myself: _I'm sorry, I don't know what you want from me, but I can't give it to you._ An expression of compassion and guilt on my face: _I'm sorry if I've led you on. _That was certainly the only sane reaction to this sort of situation.

I turned around, slowly, and he didn't let me go. When I was facing him, looking into his eyes, I felt speechless yet again. I couldn't get the words out, the words I was supposed to speak. It was like I'd been pushed onto a stage in the middle of a Broadway production, and I didn't know what my lines were. There was definitely something wrong with me. Any normal person would've walked about a thousand years ago.

"What is this?" I heard myself asking.

"Do you care?" he answered, his eyes probing mine.

What a strange answer. But I knew exactly what he meant. When everything around you and inside you is chaos, when you start questioning yourself, your life, your choices and what you're doing with yourself… I believe some people would refer to this as a thirty-something crisis, but it's far worse. It's everything you've ever believed in, reduced to ashes. Your personality dissolving, trying to reinvent itself. And you find it hard to care, about anything. You get reckless. In a flash of clarity, I realised I'd been through all the stages. And I knew what came next.

"No," I said, and before I got a chance to say anything else, I felt Kostya's mouth being pressed against my own, hungrily, desperately.


	5. Chapter 5: Wrong

**Wrong **

The first few minutes, I was in shock. It wasn't that I hadn't somehow expected it, but even overlooking the fact that I'd never even thought about kissing another man before, there was that pesky little detail of me having known Kostya since he was just a boy. If this had happened just a few years ago, let's just say "paedophile" would've been one of the nicer things I would've been called. All that would've been more than enough for me to feel a bit ambiguous about the situation. But then there was also the business of me working for an organisation known to dematerialise his kind, the prospect of someone finding out…

And the jolt in my stomach when I realised I really enjoyed kissing him.

Returning his eager kisses, I found myself already making pathetic excuses for my behaviour. Svetlana was slipping away from me, as she had been for some time now. It wasn't anybody's fault, and I'd known from the beginning it was bound to happen. She was on a different level, a place I could never reach. But like I said, that was a lousy excuse. I didn't need constant approval – I've always been my own person. But then why did it feel so good being _needed_?

Because that's what I got from Kostya – I felt his hunger, and was overwhelmed to feel my own matching his. His hands slipping beneath my shirt, I gasped at the coldness of his skin; he ripped open my shirt, buttons scattering across the hallway floor – I wondered hazily what Svetlana would think when she saw the state my shirt was in – I felt uncomfortable for just a second, and then I was too busy to think about such trifling matters.

I felt like I should say something, but when I tried breaking away to make my statement, he forcefully pulled me back in and said, midst kisses, "Don't say anything."

"Right," I mumbled into his mouth. This was so wrong on so many levels… but for some reason it didn't _feel_ the least bit wrong.

It did feel different, though, kissing Kostya: Svetlana was always gentle with me, even when she was the most passionate – I'd always thought of her as the epitome of all qualities commonly regarded as typically "female" – whereas Kostya was rough, demanding, and it triggered me more than I would've thought possible. It was like a struggle between the two of us, a sensation heightened by him biting down on my lower lip, not too intensely, but enough for me to gasp in surprise.

I sensed him grinning slightly at my response, which awoke something inside me. Whatever it was, it drove me to forcing him up against the wall – perhaps to regain a sense of control. I saw surprise in his dark eyes before I dove in to kiss him again, only slower this time. Just to make sure… and sure enough, there was that jolt again, as our lips and tongues met – why had I never experienced that with Svetlana? – my pulse a violent drumbeat in my ears.

I should've known Kostya wouldn't like being subjugated like that. I could only keep him in check for half a minute before he struggled free from my grip around his wrists and pushed me back, against the opposite wall. It took me completely by surprise. Certainly, Kostya doesn't look that strong, but then that's vampire strength for you…

I barely noticed my breathing getting heavier as he fumbled with the button and zipper of my jeans, acting like he couldn't get me out of them fast enough. When he finally did, and I felt his cold fingers tracing the outline of my briefs, I froze. All at once, it hit me: what we were doing, what we were about to do… the reality of the situation threatened to throw me into panic. _What was I doing?_

Kostya must've spotted the look on my face – he stopped tugging at my underwear, but didn't remove his hands. He just looked at me.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

Embarrassed, I felt my entire body screaming for his attention the second he stopped touching me, and realised, not without a quick sting of anxiety, that there was no backing out of this—never mind that I hardly even knew if I _wanted _to back out... I couldn't rationalize this, couldn't lie to myself: I'd never been more aroused in my entire life. And even if I'd tried to deny it… the state I was in gave me away stone cold. My body was a traitor like no other. Still somehow I felt obligated to try and excuse myself:

"Svetlana…" I began in a weak, doubtful voice, before Kostya cut me off.

"She'll never know," he said snappishly. Before I even got a chance to retort, he'd got down on his knees, planting sloppy kisses all the way down my chest, pulled down my last protective piece of clothing and enclosed me with his lips, and I felt the last threads of my long-suffering sanity vanish, absorbed by the wetness of his mouth.

At the mercy of Kostya's lips, tongue and – oh, by everything unholy – teeth, it was all I could do not to cry out loud. The absurdness of the situation – me with a man in a dark, anonymous hallway behind an unlocked door – was such an unspeakable high. Furthermore, Kostya knew what he was doing. In fact, it seemed like he knew just what to do to take me over completely, making it impossible for me to do anything else but just enjoy myself, an utter slave to my pleasure. I would never have known losing myself could be that wonderful.

My fingers running through his hair almost by their own accord, I felt a slight sting of jealousy at the thought of someone else receiving the same treatment by Kostya. But I immediately gave myself a mental kicking. Jealousy? That was the prerogative of people in love. And I wasn't in love with Kostya… I couldn't be, ever, because I couldn't trust him… there was an invisible wall built between us, but we hadn't built it ourselves. The Watches had done a good job building it all on their own – the Watches, the Treaty, the entire Other community, the rules and guidelines set up thousands of years ago. They were certainly indisputable.

But I didn't get to contemplate the wrongness of my actions much longer. It was impossible to focus. My eyes were closed, my head against the wall, still spinning to some extent, and by Light and Darkness, I didn't know anyone could use their mouth like that… my pulse was so heavy I felt like I'd have a coronary any second, and I thought that if Olga could see me now… before everything exploded like the apartment had been prepped with napalm, fire shooting out into my entire body, and I sunk down on the floor, my back still pressed against the wall, panting like I'd just run the marathon.


	6. Chapter 6: Aftermath

**Aftermath **

I was still shaking when I opened my eyes slowly, my head dense and the entirety of me warm and contented in the aftermath of my release. Kostya was sitting in front of me, legs crossed. Once again, I found myself unable to discern his expression. I pulled my knees up against my chest, folding my arms around them. I felt very exposed, suddenly, and happy that the curtains at least made the hallway a bit darker. _It's always safer, dwelling in the dark…_

There was that feeling again, of not knowing what to say or do. What I was _supposed_ to do in this situation. After all, I hadn't had any practice in this particular area… being unfaithful… with another man… someone that much younger than me… someone I'd actually watched growing up… I shuddered at the thought of twelve-year-old Kostya, who had referred to me as "uncle Anton". It was best to focus on the present. I had enough troubles as it was.

Feeling a desperate need to fill out the silence that had fallen between us, I coughed indistinctly. "So… I think I need to…" I finally got out, highly uncomfortable.

"Don't," Kostya said abruptly. "I know what you're going to say, just… don't. Stay. Call in sick or something."

I almost laughed at his naivety. "It doesn't work like that."

Before I knew it, he'd moved in closer, suddenly all over me again with hands and lips. There was nothing I could do. I was powerless against his frantic need. The personification of pathetic.

Try looking up "feeble" in a dictionary; the synonym is "Anton Gorodetsky".

"Stay," he repeated, mumbling against my neck, and I felt the blood in my veins starting to rage again. It was with extreme difficulty that I finally, after a few minutes of careless groping and kissing, managed to pull away from him.

"You know I can't. People will get suspicious if I don't turn up. And I don't fancy the thought of anyone chancing to read my mind tonight."

A grin spread across Kostya's face. "And why's that?"

I sighed. Probably best to 'fess up. Still… it both hurt my pride and completely punctured my ever-ongoing tries to downsize what had happened. "Because I won't be able to think about anything else than… _this_… for the entire night. Worst case scenario," I added hurriedly.

"You nervous?" he inquired charmingly.

"Of course I am," I muttered honestly. I felt a bit irritated at his indifference; that he seemed almost gleeful at my angst concerning the probability of someone finding out what we'd done. Well, sure… it wouldn't affect him like it would me.

"Well, I can help with that…" Kostya whispered, leaning in and kissing me again. I had no power nor will to refuse him anymore. I was completely and utterly powerless against him. And he knew to take advantage of it.

All sorts of prospects disturbed my already fragile peace of mind, keeping me occupied. Would Kostya maybe consider this just an extraordinary accomplishment – that he'd managed to seduce a Light magician, a Night Watch employee? Would he perhaps even brag about it? No, that was crazy. Who did he have to boast to? He didn't have a lot of friends that I knew of. And if his father found out… blood ties or no blood ties, he'd probably kill Kostya. Imagine the shame of your vampire son ending up with a Light Other… a _male _Light Other. Double the atrociousness!

But what was I thinking? There would be no ending up with anyone. This had been an unfortunate mistake, fuelled by my own uncertainties and hangover angst, and must never happen again. I had a girlfriend. Turning to Kostya for comfort, as pleasurable as it had been… I couldn't make a habit out of it. It would only end in tears and bloodshed. Literally.

I tore myself from him again, biting my lip and trying hard not to display any feelings when I looked into his eyes. "Kostya… I've got to go."

He looked disappointed. The look on his face alone made me want to declare I'd just been kidding and stay the night, but I summoned up the last scraps of strength I had left and shrugged. "I'm—I'm sorry. Really, I am. But if I don't show up… and they find out where I've been… well, someone could get the wrong idea."

"And the wrong idea…" Kostya paused, looking at me intently. "What would that be, exactly?"

"Don't play the fool; I know you're not stupid," I retorted dryly, my heart seemingly throbbing in my throat, intent on choking me. With great effort, I got to my feet and started pulling my clothes on, piece by piece – the shirt wouldn't close, of course, without any buttons left. Slightly embarrassed, I continued my little unrehearsed speech. "But okay, I'll lay it down for you. I don't even know where to start! Ever heard the expression "sleeping with the enemy", Kostya? It never ends well. I'm too old for you—"

"I don't care!" Kostya blurted out.

"—I'm also in a relationship, with a woman. And you, you're just confused about your sexuality, which is okay, it's normal for your age, but…"

My ridiculously self-righteous stride was abruptly broken by Kostya, who suddenly started to laugh. A hollow, but still somehow genuinely amused sort of laugh. And here I'd thought I was making my point in the simplest of ways, to ensure he'd understand that this, whatever it was, this _thing_ between us could never be acted upon again. Instead, I'd ended up the punch line of some joke I didn't even comprehend. I suddenly felt like I was shrinking in front of the exceptionally self-assured Kostya, who had now got to his feet; leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

When his genial laughter had finally died out, he said, still smiling, "I'm sorry, but I just find this kind of funny. Is that really what you think? That I'm "confused about my sexuality"? That I'm just trying different things on, to see what fits?"

"Yes," I said, feeling my cheeks turn a fervent shade of red.

"So you're telling me… all these years… and you never noticed?"

"Noticed what?" I replied stubbornly, though I knew perfectly well what he'd meant.

"The way I feel about you, you idiot," he said bluntly.

Even if I could've seen his answer coming a mile away, it was just too much. I felt my anxiety multiply, burning holes in my stomach like acid. _I'm such a bastard. _I knew someone had done wrong in this situation – someone _had_ to have done wrong – I just couldn't for the life of me figure out if I'd been the one to take advantage, or if it had been the other way around.

It was as though Kostya had read my mind – what an encore. "Anton. The things you said… I know you're hitched. I've seen her a few times… in the stairwell, coming to see you. She seems nice." He paused, and the awkwardness of the moment made me yearn for an explosion to break up the conversation. "It's like you said: I'm not stupid. But do you know what I think?"

I shook my head, silently dreading what he was about to say.

"I can give you things she can't." He looked at me, his visage defiant now. And I think you know it."

I winced. I hadn't counted on this. I'd thought that my mentioning Svetlana would put a damper on all further conversation – that he'd maybe throw me out, screaming. That would've been easier… at least for me. But he was obviously not interested in making things easy for me. "And what're those things, Kostya?" I replied, trying to sound as indifferent as I could.

For a moment he looked like he was about to answer me. His lips parted, but it was like he had a change of heart, and just smiled weakly at me. "That's for you to find out."

My heart leapt. I couldn't help but feel a bit lost in translation, but caught a quick glance at the clock on the wall, which told me I needed to hurry up; I was already in danger of running late, and Geser doesn't look too fondly upon tardiness when the person in question is unable to produce a plausible and valid explanation. This conversation could stretch well into midnight, and I also had a strong suspicion that somewhere along the line, it wouldn't be conversation we would be engaged in any longer, but another form of… intercourse.

Kostya's voice followed me out into the stairwell.

"Come around tomorrow?"

I didn't turn around to face him again. I know that it's regarded as basic politeness to look the person you're engaging in conversation with in the eye, but truth to be told, I feared that one more single look at Kostya would drive me to turn back, and I wouldn't reach headquarters until the next morning. Elbowing my own door open, I threw back my response to his invitation, still not looking at him. I didn't need to. Didn't need to see the triumphant look on his face: I could just close my eyes, and there he was, grinning, welcoming me back.

"Sure," I said curtly.

We both knew what it meant.

Closing the door behind me, moving on to raid the kitchen for a cup of decent coffee, I found myself thinking about the next day, the probability of seeing Kostya again. It wasn't like I was risking much by going back, really… nobody could possibly think twice about a burnt-out old Watchman heading over to see his neighbour on the weekend. Nothing I hadn't already risked would be put in danger. And besides, the damage already done, I might as well see where this took me.

Heaven, Hell, Purgatory…

It's all the same to me, anyway.


End file.
